O, I am Fortune's Fool!
by BrownEyedDreams
Summary: "'Tis torture, and not mercy." Hermione Granger is taken to the house of Fenrir Greyback, and discovers that he is not all she thought he was.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They all belong to JK Rowling.**_

_**I hope you enjoy reading this short beginning of my story. You may find along the way that Fenrir Greyback is a little different to how you would imagine him to be. I hope you enjoy reading though. :)**_

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><p><em>"Young men's love then lies,<em>

_Not truly in their hearts,_

_But in their eyes."_

"Hello, beau'iful," the snatcher drawled lazily, leaning against a tree and holding his scarf, no _her _scarf, to his nose. He smirked at her seductively, his eyes piercing hers. Hermione stumbled back a few steps, breathing heavily, trying to remain calm. Losing her head would certainly not help the situation. She saw more snatchers appear out of the corner of her eye; they were completely surrounded.

She glanced at Harry, whose was on her left, and saw him nod slightly in her direction, his eyes wide. She in turn tilted her chin up slightly. She knew what he was thinking; they were going to run. And run they did. Fast.

"Well don' hang abou', snatch 'em!" was all she heard before the cracking of twigs and leaves, and her heart beating wildly rang in her ears. There was no other sound, no shouting, just hearts beating fast, and shoes hitting twigs. For once, she didn't think about the boys as she ran from the snatchers; she knew what would happen to her, a Mudblood, if she was caught. It was no secret that people like her, especially the women, were used as toys. Still, her heart lurched as she heard Ron shout and fall. From all the shouting and cursing now though, she could tell Harry was still running. He drew level with her as she blindly fired spell after spell over her shoulder. He grabbed her hand and they ran together, neither saying a word.

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure race along near her. She turned her head and raised her wand, intending to fire a spell at him, but instead of raising his wand to defend himself, he pointed ahead, one end of his mouth turned up so he looked like he was almost smiling. Hermione frowned, confused, but followed his finger; a few metres from where she was, a cliff edge loomed. She halted suddenly and spun round, breathing heavily and looking around wildly for another way to run to. An escape. There was nowhere; they were trapped. She was too distracted, her mind racing, to notice that the dark figure had also stopped moving, but made no attempt to catch her or Harry. He watched her intently, amused even at how, even though she was indefinitely trapped, she still sought to get out, to be safe. She was like a beautiful bird, trapped in a cage, flying around desperately for the exit. Yes, a very beautiful bird. He raised his dark eyebrows, however, when he saw her finally turn on the boy and raise her wand to his face. He saw her mutter a few words and a bright light erupt from the end of her wand. The boy fell to the floor. Maybe she was so desperate to escape, she had turned on the one she had previously been trying to save. But moments later, he sat up, whispering urgently to the pretty girl. The watcher couldn't make out clearly what he was saying as his face was turned from his place of hiding, but he made out enough words to realise that the boy was talking of the Dark Lord. So, the boy and the Dark Lord really did have a connection. That was interesting. Before the figure could consider that idea anymore, his fellow snatchers appeared, out of breath but still able to pull off a smirk. He took this as his moment to emerge from his hiding place, and grab the Weasley boy from one of the other snatcher's. Their 'leader', Scabior, pulled up the Potter boy (the watcher noted that his glasses had been removed) and practically threw him at the nearest man, not caring who as he was too distracted by the girl, looking her up and down as another man pulled her to her feet. A smirk slowly formed on his face. The watcher felt himself stiffen slightly and a low growl make it's way to his lips as he saw Scabior watch her; he had already decided the girl was his, and he didn't like other people taking what was his. The girl kept her chin up, but eyes down, brave but terrified. Scabior reached out a ringed finger and stroked her cheek, surprisingly gentle for a man like him. Even so, she flinched slightly.

"Don't touch her!" the Weasley boy in the watcher's grasp called out suddenly. It was brave of him, but he got a punch in the stomach from his captor; she certainly wasn't the Weasley boy's either, he thought savagely.

"Wha's your name, beau'iful?" Scabior whispered into her ear, almost seductively, ignoring the boy's outburst.

"Penelope Clearwater," Hermione answered in a clear but small voice; she was silently praying that the stinging jinx would be enough to protect Harry. The snatcher nodded and looked her up and down again, smirking.

"Check the list," was all he said, before moving towards Harry. Hermione's heart beat faster as she heard Harry give his cousin's name. She closed her eyes in anguish as she heard a snatcher say it wasn't on the list, and the leader ask again who he was. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she heard the snatcher say they would be taken to Malfoy Manor. They knew. They were caught. It was all over. They had failed.

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><p><em>"From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,<em>

_Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."_

Hermione kept her head down throughout the whole journey; throughout the apparating and the long walk up to the main gates of Malfoy Manor. When they finally reached the gate, she looked up and saw Scabior exchange a few words with Bellatrix Lestrange. Her heart sank and beat faster at the same time; there was no knowing what Bellatrix would do to her, what special torture she had saved just for someone like her.

The watcher had, of course, watched the girl the whole time. It had been easy to do as he had managed to make sure he was the one to guard her. She was surprisingly quiet, like she had already accepted what was going to happen to her. This disappointed him slightly as he had wished to see some of that Gryffindor courage that they were renowned for. It would have made the journey… Interesting. He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her through the gates, following those infront. All the Malfoy's were present as well as Bellatrix; there was no sign of the Dark Lord.

Hermione could feel her captor watching her, but she refused to look at him, imagining that his face was lined with menace and sadistic glee as he thought of all the ways in which he could make her suffer. She didn't dare move, didn't dare speak or look up as she heard the great doors close behind them. There was no way out. Harry was on his knees infront of her, his back to her, and Draco Malfoy was being almost forced forward by his father. Hermione felt an almost sick twinge of pity for him; he looked so terrified.

"I can't - I can't be sure," Draco stuttered before turning away, probably trying to block from his sight what he could not from his mind; It was his words that would condemn the man he had known half his life before him, if he didn't choose them carefully. Hermione then sensed something standing infront of her; something menacing. She looked up, and into the eyes of madness itself. Bellatrix Lestrange was addressing her, and in her hand, was the sword of Gryffindor.

"Lock the boys in the cellar... I think it's time I had a little talk with this one, girl to girl!" Bellatrix hissed as Hermione drew in a shuddering breath, unable to move backwards due to the tall man behind her; the watcher.

The red-headed boy was calling out for her, almost screaming.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Ah, Hermione, yes that was her name. It was beautiful and uncommon, just like her. He turned back to her as he heard her whimper. She refused to sob, no matter how terrified she was. Bellatrix circled her, like an animal inspecting its prey. "Did you steal it?" She whispered softly, stopping just in front of Hermione. Hermione raised her eyes to Bellatrix's bravely.

"No."

The watcher winced slightly and almost growled as Bellatrix slapped her, hard. The force and suddenness of the attack sent Hermione falling to the floor and before she could even recover, she was writhing around in pain as Bellatrix held her under the Cruciatus Curse. Only what seemed like mere moments later though, Bellatrix was straddling her, pinning her hands either side of her head and hissed again, "What did you take from my vault, you filthy little mudblood?"

"No, no I swear, please! We didn't take anything! It's a copy!"

The last word turned into a scream as Bellatrix produced a small silver knife and wrenched the girls sleeve up, beginning to carve something into the skin of her exposed arm. Hermione screamed and tried to kick her legs out. The scream, full of anguish and despair, rang off the walls and echoed down the corridors; no-one was deaf to it.

The watcher had to keep his eyes fixed ahead, for if he saw the agony on the young girls face, he would have attacked Bellatrix in a second. Even hearing her screams nearly sent him into a rage. He found himself wondering why he wanted to protect her. It's because she's mine, he thought, that's my instinct. His mouth turned up slightly at one end as he found himself making excuses for wanting her. No-one would question it, no-one would question him. He could not stop himself however taking a quick glance at her. Bellatrix had moved off her, her earlier orders to have the goblin brought up obeyed and was currently interrogating him.

The girl, Hermione, was for the first time looking right at him, tears streaming down her face and complete and utter sadness and pleading in her deep chocolate-whiskey coloured eyes. Her face then turned to one of horror as she saw his smile.

She thought he was smiling at her pain.

There is not one person in this room with any sense of humanity, she thought, her heart sinking even further, if that was possible.

"Well, is it the true sword?" Bellatrix was still pacing infront of the statue-still goblin.

"No, it is a fake," He replied, quite calmly. Bellatrix stopped pacing and bowed her head slightly to study the goblin.

"Are you sure?" She hissed. "Quite sure?"

The goblin merely nodded and a strange look of relief washed over Bellatrix's features. Returning to her upright position, she addressed the room triumphantly.

"And now, we call the Dark Lord!"

And she yanked up her sleeve to press her finger to her Dark Mark. He would soon be coming and all hope, if there even was any, was lost.

"And I think, we can dispose of the Mudblood" Bellatrix said, with a sneer as she looked down at Hermione, "Greyback, take her if you want her."

Before Hermione could even turn to see who or where Greyback was, Ron had burst into the room, causing her every single head in that room to turn his way. And there it was; that tiny flicker of hope in Hermione's heart. She allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up slightly into a small smile, when suddenly she was being pulled up from the floor and into someone's arms. Summoning what little hope and strength she had, Hermione screamed and struggled, hitting, pushing and kicking but to no avail. Her captor just tightened their hold and turned, walking away from the now ongoing battle between the remaining occupants of the room. Hermione began to sob and cry out for anyone as she was taken away by God knows who, and the great doors grow bigger. Then she was through the doors. Then she felt the beginnings of apparition. Then she was in that awful house no longer. She never stopped fighting or screaming once.


	2. Chapter 2

**_**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They all belong to JK Rowling.**_**

**_**Thank you to mumz3l-Neskouiik-Bura, cosmoGirl666, PrincessYouKnow, LilyGinnyLuna, ThornedHuntress and Kp for reviewing! And thank you to everyone who's favourited this story and alerted it. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy chapter two. 3**_**

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><p>"<em>A glooming peace this morning with it brings,<em>

_The sun for sorrow will not show his head."_

Seconds. She stopped fighting for a few mere seconds as she blinked and adjusted to the sudden change of light. It was dark, and cold. She felt panic creeping in and once again began to struggle wildly. A sob tried to escape her lips however her throat was too sore from her previous screaming. Suddenly, she felt the whole of the front of her body turn cold as she was pressed against something solid; a wall. There was another solid mass behind her; however this one was slightly warmer. One hand was placed on her shoulder, holding her in place against the wall, and the other was put to the wall at the side of her waist, boxing her in. She stopped struggling and froze as she felt warm, steady breathing on the back of her neck. She bit her lip hard to stifle another sob as her captor bowed his head slightly and murmured quietly.

"Struggling will not get you anywhere, Miss Granger, and I do not wish for you to come to more harm today."

Hermione swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, and raised her chin slightly, glancing out of the corner of her eye as she tried to identify the man who had spoken.

" Who are you?" She breathed as she tried to move her now freezing body off the wall slightly, to no avail. She felt him move the hair off of her neck onto her shoulder with one finger, his finger tip lightly brushing her skin, causing the hairs to rise.

"My name is Fenrir Greyback, Miss Granger, no doubt you've heard of me."

Hermione stiffened immediately. Oh dear God, no, she thought, anyone, _anyone_, but him.

"Let me go. Now." She pleaded, struggling weakly against him.

She heard him laugh softly under his breath as he moved his head in a little closer to her ear, his breath stirring a stray curl of hers.

"Oh no, Miss Granger, you see that is quite impossible. I happen to become quite attached to something I like… And I rarely tend to let it go."

Hermione's eyes widened and she started to struggle, a small sob escaping her lips. Fenrir moved his head back sharply to avoid her head hitting his chin, and, raising his eyes to the heavens, he pressed his body, lightly, against hers with a heavy sigh, pinning her against the wall.

"Miss Granger, have I not already told you that struggling will not get you anywhere? My, and I thought they called you the bright one."

Breathing heavily, she froze when he pressed against her and she bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

"Please, let me go. I haven't done anything."

Fenrir tilted his head to the side slightly, licking his lips slowly. Bowing his head again, he spoke softly, almost sounding amused.

"Where's that famous Gryffindor spirit? Are you frightened, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," came her quiet, honest, reply. Fenrir tightened his hold on her shoulder a little, only making her wince slightly. Swiftly, he spun her around, now placing both hands either side of her head against the wall, causing Hermione's eyes to widen as she sucked in a surprised breath. His eyes roamed over her slowly, and leaning in, his lip curled slightly in a small smirk.

"Not nearly frightened enough, my brave little Gryffindor."

He had called her his. She raised her chin defiantly.

"I am not yours," she hissed in reply, and suddenly her hand flew over and came into contact with his cheek, though the force only man his head turn a little. However, his eyes had also moved, off of her, and she seized her chance. She quickly ducked under his arm, breaking into a run as soon as she was away from his grasp.

Fenrir sighed exasperatedly and straightened up, rolling his jaw as he turned to see her run into the nearest room, beginning to stride after, one side of his mouth turned up into an almost amused smile.

"Oh, kitten. While I do enjoy the odd chase, they soon grow tiresome."

Hermione tried to shut out his words and quickly darted into another room, darker than the one before, and pressed herself against a wall, closing her mouth tightly to prevent him from hearing her breathe. She tensed as she heard him enter the room on the other side of the wall. His slow but heavy steps moved from one side of the room to the other. Hermione licked her suddenly dry lips and looked around desperately, squinting in the dark. Her eyes finally rested on a door at the other end of the room. Swallowing lightly, she slowly and quietly began to move towards it, keeping her back pressed against the wall while doing so, constantly listening to his movements still occurring in the other room. After what seemed like a painfully long time, the door loomed in front of Hermione. Unnerved by the sudden silence, she tried to stay perfectly still as she reached her hand out towards the door knob.

"I see you, Kitten."

His warm breath stirred her neck. Ducking quickly, she evaded his hand reaching out to grasp her and she was off running again, back through the room she had just come from. This time, she emerged out onto a corridor with several doors. Panting lightly, she stopped as her eyes flicked quickly to each of them.

"I really do not see what you will gain from this," she heard him drawl, sounding almost as if he were dealing with a child, from a few room's away.

Clenching her jaw, she wrenched open the nearest door to her and winced as she was suddenly hit by a stream of, slightly weak, light. A large garden rolled out in front of her but, not stopping to take it in, she began running again. Her legs were growing tired as she ran across the grass and headed towards the nearby woods rising up in front of her, but she pressed on, spurred on by the sounds of him, now also running, a little distance behind her.

Finally, Hermione entered into the woods, never slowing her pace as branches and thorns caught on her clothing and hair. She felt a small trail of blood slide down her cheek as a branch caught her skin, but still she pressed on.

She looked back as she heard several twigs snap behind her, and saw Fenrir was quickly catching up with her, looking nowhere near as out of breath or as drained as she was. Her eyes widened as she saw him smirk and, like he had done only an hour or two before, point in the direction ahead of her. With a great sense of dread, Hermione quickly turned to look in front again and quickly came to a halt. Stretching out in front of her was a lake, and on the other side of it, the woods appeared to end and form into a vast field. Breathing heavily, she looked around desperately, hearing him approach.

Suddenly, an idea struck her. With no other solution, she quickly unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off, letting it drop to the ground, her jacket soon following after it. She kicked off her shoes and socks and nudged the small pile of clothing away from her and the water.

Fenrir watched her search, once again, for a way out with light amusement and smirked slightly to himself. However, it quickly disappeared as he watched her begin to remove her clothing. Already following her thought pattern, he quickened his pace.

Hermione, her thin shirt and jeans the only pieces of clothing remaining, took a step towards the lake, shivering as she slid one foot in, then the other. She let out several short breaths as the icy water came into contact with her skin and squeezed her eyes shut, but continued to move further in, holding her arms above the water as it rose up to her thigh, and higher.

"Miss Granger, get out of the water and come back here now." She heard Fenrir growl warningly, not needing to look over her shoulder to know he was standing at the water's edge. Folding her arms tightly, the corners of her lips turned up into a slight smile as she heard a hint of unease in his tone. However, as the water now climbed up to her chest, her feet could no longer touch the bottom of the lake. Her body, growing weaker every second, began to turn numb. Forcing herself to now keep her eyes open, she tried to kick her legs weakly and move her arms, but they were too heavy. She felt herself start to slowly slip under the water, her eyes fluttering closed, and she heard the curious sound of a large splash behind her before the water entered her ears, muffling any another sounds she might have heard. As the water crashed in over her head, she tried to kick her legs one last time, but to no avail. She began to drift lower and lower, her lungs starting to burn as her oxygen supply slowly started to decrease. She could only hear the muffled sounds of her own weak struggle for survival, before there was silence. Well, drowning is not one of the ways I'm sure people expected Hermione Granger to die, she thought almost with a touch of humour.

Her foot touched the bottom.

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><p>"<em>An if you leave me so, you do me wrong"<em>

The 'brightest witch of her age', was incredibly idiotic, Fenrir discovered. Firstly, she had struck him. That in itself was an incredibly, _incredibly_ stupid thing to do, never mind dangerous. If he had not been a patient man, he doubted she would be alive at this very moment. Secondly, she had tried to engage him in a pointless and ridiculous game of cat-and-mouse. He did not like games. But now, she was attempting to actually swim across his very vast and freezing lake. Maybe she did harbour a slight touch of Gryffindor bravery.

He stopped at the edge of the lake abruptly, his gaze flicking down to the surface of the water. He didn't really fancy getting his clothes wet just to save a girl who meant nothing to him.

"_I am not yours…" _

Her previous words flashed through his mind as his eyes tried to find her.

"Miss Granger…?"

Frowning slightly, feeling uncomfortably a little worried, he caught sight of a few ripples coming from a little way into the lake. Oh she was his, and that meant she was his responsibility. That meant he could not let her die… Not now anyway. For the second time that day, he raised his eyes to the heavens, a small part of him questioning why he had wanted her so much. It was only a small part, though.

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><p>"<em>Stay but a little, I will come again"<em>

Hermione's mouth parted, and a few tiny bubbles escaped. As soon as she began to except that she'd die at the bottom of a freezing lake all alone, she suddenly felt something strong slip around her waist from behind and begin to pull her upwards. Only a few moments later, her head broke the surface and she gasped for breath, coughing water out of her lungs. Her vision was blurry and unfocused, but she could just make out the trees on the far side of the lake, her goal, growing further and further away from her.

"No…" She mouthed, wanting desperately to push her 'saviour' away. The way she saw it, she would either want to reach the other side of the lake, or die. However, she closed her eyes in defeat, the numbness from her body slowly creeping into her mind. She didn't even flinch as she felt the cold air hit and wash over her wet skin and clothes.

Fenrir, thanking anyone who might be listening that she was light, had managed to pull her away from the bottom of the lake, and had also managed to drag her to the shore. Impatiently moving the wet hair out of his eyes with one hand, he lifted her up into his arms and waded ashore. His jaw was clenched angrily as he reached down with one hand to pick up his coat, and then began to make his way back across the lawn, ignoring the pathetic creature in his arm's coughs and splutters for air. She hadn't seemed so desperate for it before.

His anger waned slightly, however, when he felt her tremble and shake against his chest. Glancing down briefly, he saw her wet curls plastered to her face, and her eyes closed as she held her hands to her chest as if seeking comfort from herself.

Sighing heavily, Fenrir held her a little tighter to himself and rang his tongue over his teeth.

"That was a very foolish and dangerous thing to do, Miss Granger, and if you plan on repeating that little fiasco, do not think that I will so quickly come to your aid again."

He skimmed his teeth over his lower lip as the manor door grew closer, and awaited any sign of acknowledgement from her. After a few moments of silence, Fenrir frowned slightly and looked down at the girl. His frown deepened when he saw her chest barely move. Stopping abruptly, he gave her a gentle shake.

"Miss Granger, you are most welcome to sleep when you are inside and _not_ in my arms_."_

Once again, his words were followed by silence. Dropping to his knees, Fenrir, gently, lowered her onto the ground, though still held her against his chest, and dropped his coat. Brushing the wet hair off of her face, he placed the back of his hand against her cheek. Cursing silently when he felt how cold her skin was, he cupped her jaw and held his thumb over her lips, feeling her slight breath.

His gaze feel on his coat, not too far from them, and knowing she might not make it if he tried to get her to a bedroom, he reached out and swiftly wrapped it around the girl's small, shivering form.

Fenrir shifted his position to sit with his legs crossed, and held her on his lap and against his chest, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. He tilted his head down and placed a finger under her chin, lifting her head slightly so he could look at her. His gaze slowly moved to her lips and, running his tongue over his teeth again, he sighed heavily and let her head drop gently back down. He stared straight ahead as he started to absent-mindedly rock her slowly and run his hand up and down her arm.

He allowed himself to rest his cheek on the top of her head.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm so sorry this has taken a while. The Easter Holidays kept me busy! D: I hope you all had a good one. **

**If some of you are confused as to why Fenrir thinks or behaves in a certain way, I assure you, you will find out soon why he acts the way he does. If you do have any questions, I will try and answer them, I just don't want to give too much of the story away. **

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><p>"<em>Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot<em>

_Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint."_

Hermione awoke with a start. Above her was the canopy of a bed; certainly not her bed. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry and as a result she ended up coughing and spluttering for a few moments. Rolling her head to the side, she was suddenly blinded by a stream of light. She winced and raised her hand to protect her eyes, using her other hand to push herself up into a sitting position. Her whole body was aching. Coughing again, her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and she saw a window with the curtains partially drawn.

A small feeling of unease began to slowly creep up on the Gryffindor.

Dropping her hand, she used it to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, then push the suffocating bed covers off of her lower body. She slid her legs slowly off of the bed and shivered lightly as she lowered her feet onto a cold, wooden floor. Pressing her hands onto the mattress, she pushed herself up and paused for a few moments as her head spun. Once she had found her bearings, she stepped towards the window and moved one of the curtains aside slightly, looking out. She was greeted by the sight of the sun setting over the trees, and a vast lawn that seemed familiar.

Her captor's lawn. Fenrir Greyback's lawn.

Hermione gasped quietly as the events of, what she assumed had been yesterday, became clearer in her aching mind. Swiftly dropping the curtain and turning, she felt suddenly more alert. Her brown eyes roamed over the room before her.

There was the bed she had just woke up in, most likely an antique, and it was very much like the one back in her dormitory at Hogwarts. Quickly brushing aside a wave of nostalgia, Hermione continued to survey the room. Opposite the bed was a great, oak wardrobe, and next to that was a door. On the other side of the room was a chest of drawers that matched the wardrobe, and a few feet away from it, was another door.

Hermione moved towards the door she had first seen, and tentatively placed her hand on the door knob. To her surprise, it was unlocked. Pushing it open, her hopes were dashed, but only slightly, as the door lead to a bathroom.

Pushing the door open a little more, she stepped in and also surveyed this room. In the centre of the room, was a brass bathtub, once again very antique looking, and on the wall near the door, was a large mirror. Opposite the door, was a window, larger than the one in the previous room, and curtains hung loosely at either end. Turning her head to the side, Hermione also saw a toilet and another chest of drawers.

She longed to take a bath, to soothe her aching muscles, but knowing that Fenrir was most likely somewhere in the manor, and her desire to escape and be somewhere _safe _was greater.

Stepping back into the bedroom with a sigh of defeat, she closed the door behind her. She moved next to the wardrobe.

Pulling the doors open, she was not surprised to find it empty. A small, foolish, part of her had hoped to have found some sort of clothing, seeing as she was still only clad in her thin shirt and jeans, which were still a little damp.

The state of her clothes reminded her again of the events of yesterday. She bit her lower lip as she remembered how she had almost drowned… By her own will.

Yet Fenrir had saved her.

Hermione snorted inwardly at her last thought. Fenrir Greyback had not 'saved' her. Tis torture, and not mercy, she thought, hopelessly, knowing he did not pull her out of that lake because he valued her life.

She was most likely to be the bait in drawing Harry to Voldemort.

She closed her eyes as her mind filled with questions and concerns of Harry and Ron. She hoped with all the remaining strength she had that they were safer than she was… Where ever she was.

Pulling herself away from her dark thoughts, her reopened eyes fell on the other door. Biting her lip, she advanced towards it and grasped the door knob, giving it a sharp pull.

It was unlocked.

For the first time that day, the corners of Hermione's mouth turned up into an, almost, smile. She quietly and gently pulled the door open a little more. She shifted so that she could peer out. Looking out, she saw a corridor, and at the end of it, the beginning of a set of stairs leading down. Turning her head, she saw that the other side lead to a dead end. Waiting for a few more moments, she opened the door a little wider and stepped out, keeping her eyes on the staircase. As she heard the door quietly click shut behind her, she began to make her way towards the stairs.

Keeping her back pressed to the wall, her heart beating fast, she listened for any signs of movement.

Reaching the top step of the stairs, Hermione paused again, before lightly stepping down them. Pausing at the bottom, her whole body tense, she tried to listen for any sound at all. Lifting her eyes from the floor, she found a large door only a few feet away.

The front door.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Hermione began to slowly step towards it, keeping her arms slightly raised. She was so close. She reached her hand out and her fingers brushed the door handle.

"Always trying to escape, little one, and never actually getting anywhere."

She froze.

It was him.

Closing her eyes briefly, her hand still frozen in position, she turned her head to where she heard him, and opened her eyes. In her haste to get away, she had somehow missed the dim fire glowing in a room across from the stairs.

She had somehow missed the dark figure in the armchair, a glass of most likely whiskey in his hand.

He raised said glass to his lips and took a slow sip, keeping his gaze on the glowing embers. Hermione glanced one last time at the front door, her only way out, before her eyes slowly made their way back to him.

Her gaze locked with his.

She blinked, startled, and immediately dropped her hand.

Slowly, with a long index finger, he beckoned her over, remaining silent. Hermione remained in her position, still keeping her eyes on him.

He raised a brow, an almost amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, before he beckoned her over again. This time, he locked his gaze with hers, looking directly into her eyes.

Hermione was slightly disturbed. She remembered what she had read in third year about werewolves.

"_Dominant wolves will freely look other animals directly in the eye, this declares and reinforces their superior rank."_

Hermione did not like the idea of being dominated. Yet who knows what he would do to her if, for now, she did not obey him.

She stood still for a few moments, before she suddenly found herself walking over to the room, and over to him.

She stopped when she felt the heat of the flames.

Her eyes slowly moved back to his, and she found them still on her. Slightly unnerved, the Gryffindor inside of her made her chin raise a little. Fenrir laughed under his breath as he noticed her small act of defiance.

"Sit down, little one. You are a guest, I am not going to hurt you."

He smiled wryly, as if silently adding "_yet"_ to his seemingly polite words, and used the same finger he used to beckon her over to motion her to sit down. Hermione briefly glanced over her shoulder to check if there was a chair behind her, but only briefly, not wanting to take her eyes off of him for a second, lest he make any sudden movements. Silently, she sat down, sitting on the edge of the chair, eventually letting her hands rest on her lap. Unsure of where to look, she let her gaze settle on the fire.

Fenrir's own gaze remained on her. He looked over her form, searching for any sign of her injuries from the day before. Resting his glass on the armrest of his chair, he placed his ankle on his opposite thigh.

"Show me your arm."

Startled, Hermione looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise.

"I'm sorry?" She stuttered.

"Your arm, Miss Granger, show me it." Fenrir leant forward slightly, raising an eyebrow.

Looking down, Hermione found that she had been sub-consciously massaging her inner forearm lightly. She looked up at Fenrir briefly again, before gently pulling her shirt sleeve back, exposing the words carved into her arm.

It was in the process of healing. The letters were raised slightly and clearly stood out against her skin. They would definitely leave a scar.

Leaning over, Fenrir gripped her wrist with his spare hand and pulled her arm a little closer. His brow was furrowed slightly as he inspected it silently, then he gently brushed his thumb over the markings.

He noticed Hermione inhale sharply, but quietly, and quickly moved his thumb away.

"I gather it's still rather sensitive then," He stated, already knowing the answer as he looked up and met her gaze.

Hermione nodded and cleared her sore throat, "Uh, yes, it is."

Fenrir nodded, his gaze dropping towards her arm, before he gave another satisfied, nod and released her wrist, sitting back in his chair. His gaze did not remain on the girl this time, but instead moved back to the flames. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip.

Hermione, however, continued to look in his direction. She took the moment of his brooding and silence to study the man who held her captive.

He had thick black hair, dark as the night, that fell to just above his shoulders, and his eyes were also a deep colour, but blue; the type of blue that, if you go far enough out into the sea, you'll find. He had a strong, almost aristocratic, jaw that was sharp and defined, with a hint of stubble along it. His nose was long and straight. His lips were in perfect proportion; not too thin, and not too big.

And his character… Hermione could not make out his character.

She was not used to dealing with people she did not know about. She usually knew everything; it gave her the advantage of knowing how to handle a situation before it had even happened.

She was used to being in control.

But she knew nothing about him. Only that he was the man who supposedly attacked small children, destroyed whole villages, and had ruined the life of Remus Lupin and others. Yet he sat there so calmly. Almost care-free. Hermione felt slightly sick.

Thank God she wasn't chained to a wall, she wasn't locked up in a room and she was most certainly still alive.

For now.

For how long, though? Hermione had always been one to want to know the answer.

* * *

><p>"<em>O, speak again, bright angel!"<em>

"What are you going to do with me?"

Fenrir was pulled away from his thoughts by the sound of a small, hesitant voice. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked over at the girl sitting opposite him. Yes, what was he going to do with her? He could not kill her, the Dark Lord's orders had forbade it, and so that left only two other options.

He could keep her locked in a room, and call upon her when he needed, yet Fenrir, believe it or not, was not the sort of man who would do that, for his own reasons.

Or, he could keep her with him in the house.

He tilted his head to the side slightly as he looked her over, an idea forming in his mind.

"You will stay here, Miss Granger, and you shall do as I say as long as I am here."

Hermione clenched her jaw lightly at his words; an insult said in a polite tone.

"And what am I to do while I am here, Mr Greyback?" She asked boldly, imitating his polite tone as she raised her chin a little higher; her eyes flashing slightly as she tried to reign in her anger.

Fenrir drained the last of the contents of his glass, and set it down a little harder than he intended on the table next to him. Leaning forward slightly, he spoke quietly but sharply, his eyes hard as he held her gaze.

"Mr Greyback was my father. To you, I am 'Sir'. Have I made myself clear?"

Hermione was startled slightly by his change of attitude. She had a small, curious feeling that she had somehow trespassed on a private subject. Nodding a few times, she smiled tightly.

"Yes, _sir_."

Fenrir debated whether to scold her for her mocking tone, yet decided against it. She would learn her place soon enough. He held her gaze for a few moments longer though, long enough to make her feel just a little uneasy, before sitting back and resuming his previous action of staring at the fireplace.

An uncomfortable silence fell.

Hermione supposed she should demand that he release her, or that he tell her exactly where she was. Something. Some piece of information that might help her… Help her what? Even if she did escape, where would she go? Her wand had been taken from her back at Malfoy Manor so there was no way she could apparate, there was absolutely no way she could out-run Fenrir Greyback, she didn't know who to trust, she didn't know how many miles away she was from anywhere, she didn't –

Hermione had to abruptly cut off her current train of thought, lest she get worked up. She definitely didn't want that to happen in front of _him_. She couldn't let him get to her. And she definitely couldn't show him that he was.

Fenrir furrowed his brow slightly as he pondered his next move. They couldn't very well sit how they were for the next few hours, so what to do? The usual etiquette for when a guest was round, was to give them a tour of one's house.

_Well,_ Fenrir thought somewhat reluctantly, glancing over at the girl, _it's a start._

He briefly noted that she was tense; her unblinking gaze fixed where his had been before. He smirked lightly to himself; he had affected her. That was interesting.

Deciding to think on it later, Fenrir stood and looked down at the girl.

"Miss Granger, I think it best that I show you around my home. It will give you the opportunity to familiarise yourself with your new surroundings."

Not giving her time to either agree or disagree, he turned and swiftly stepped over the grand rug she had not noticed on her way in, and made his way to another room nearby. Hermione almost didn't have enough time to react. Swiftly moving out of her chair, she followed after him, having to walk quickly to keep up with him.

He was already reeling off names, places, times and dates and who else knows what to her, only stopping briefly at every room he came to.

"Now, I ask of you that you keep the house in good condition while you are here. I expect you to clean every room at least once a week, that kind of thing. If you do happen to have finished everything to a satisfactory state, I permit you to do what you want with your time. There is the library upstairs and the grounds available to you."

Suddenly he stopped, causing Hermione to almost bump into him. Turning on his heel to face her, he fixed her with a steady gaze.

"A place that is not available to you is the attic. The entrance to it is located on the top floor and the door is locked and locked for a reason. Is that understood, Miss Granger?"

He leant towards her slightly, again not giving her time to reply, his gaze, growing cold and hard, never breaking from hers.

"If you disobey my orders, Miss Granger, I can assure you, you will never see the light of day again and I will make you work until your hands are raw and your feet bleed."

A chill ran down Hermione's spine.

So, here was the merciless killer at last… And he terrified her.

Swallowing lightly, she nodded and whispered, "Understood, sir."

Fenrir nodded and the corners of his mouth turned up into a humourless smile.

"Good. Now, to your room. The full moon is approaching us and that does not put me in the best of moods."

Hermione nodded again and swiftly turned, walking, not running, as quickly as she could away from him. Tears threatened to spill as she saw 'her' room door ahead of her. It was the only familiar thing in this dreadful place.

She hurriedly entered the room and closed the door behind her, making to lock it, but no, there was no key. There was no way she could lock out the situation from this room, her 'haven'.

Finally, her emotions washed over her. Feeling suddenly weak and drained, she stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it, burying her face into the soft pillow. Her shoulders shook as she started to sob with complete and utter despair. She began to accept there was no way out, no hope. She was trapped in a house with a murderer who could rip her apart in a heartbeat.

She sobbed until tiredness eventually became the primary emotion. Hermione fell into her second night's sleep at Greyback Manor, with tear stained marks on her cheeks and a heavy heart.

Fenrir had watched her leave, the smile having vanished from his face.

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><p><strong>A big thank you to Jamberine, Kate101, Smithback, gravity01, MarieLovesJennifer, tori-victoria, mumz3l-Neskouiik-Bura and Caro09 for reviewing and everyone else who has favourited and alerted this story! I really do appreciate it!<strong>

**And another thank you to Olena for their wonderfully helpful review! Thank you again!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Good luck to everyone who has exams. Hopefully you'll do better than I do and actually open a revision book. 3**

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><p>"<em>Ay me! sad hours seem long!"<em>

Hermione avoided Fenrir whenever she could and he seemed to avoid her. During the next few days, she dedicated herself to learning where every single room, every single draw, every single crack, everything in that bloody manor was.

The only thing she had discovered so far that could possibly help with her escape plan was that the window in the drawing room had a slight crack in it. Everything else was perfect; untouched.

She masked her newfound hobby of acute observation behind a façade of cleaning and scrubbing. On the times when she was cleaning a room and did encounter Fenrir, neither of them made any effort to talk to the other. The atmosphere was awkward and tense.

When one of them did involuntarily start a conversation, most likely starting with a regrettable comment on the weather, it would be strained, and one of them would always end up with a clenched jaw. They never ate together, each preferring to sit in a room alone with only their thoughts.

However, they both learned little things about each other, what habits the other had and whatnot.

Fenrir discovered that Hermione would wrinkle her nose if she disagreed with something that she read or even something that _he_ said. He saw her wrinkle her nose quite a lot in his company, which annoyed him greatly.

Hermione soon found out that Fenrir would only ever be found in 5 rooms; his bedroom, the drawing room, the library or the dining room. Only every few days would he venture outside onto the grounds, yet he would come back from long walks in a slightly 'happier' mood, if a mood Fenrir Greyback could have was happy.

He never went to the attic.

On the days when Fenrir wasn't around, Hermione allowed herself to feel a little free. The manor always felt slightly peaceful and warm when it was just her alone.

The first time Fenrir left, she foolishly thought he had left for good. When she asked upon his return a few days later, his gruff reply had been that he was simply 'working'. She didn't ask any more questions.

The next time he left, she spent a week putting all the books in the vast library into alphabetical order; an effort Fenrir did not appreciate. Still, it gave Hermione a small sense of normality when she was around those books. She was also very lucky to not have witnessed him at the full moon for he was away on the night of it.

His month of absence was a blessing to Hermione. After the first week she realised he had once again left, probably for longer seeing as how his other trips had been, and she was completely alone. Being alone is something no person really enjoys; even when they say they do they mean they just simply enjoy the quiet.

Yet Hermione welcomed it entirely. For a few short weeks, she could read, eat and plan without the fear of Fenrir discovering her thoughts lingering.

The sun never really came out over Greyback Manor and its grounds, but on the days when the sky was a little clearer, Hermione would venture out into the woods. She foolishly thought that there was a way of escaping by way of the grounds; maybe she could just walk away, but no. There must have been some kind of charm placed around the area as whenever she roamed too far away from the Manor, she seemed to hit an invisible 'wall'. She grew angry and frustrated upon her third outing and took it out on the 'wall', hitting it with all the force she could. That only ended up with her knuckles bruised and bleeding while the barrier seemingly remained intact.

If it rained, she would spend the days it did in the library, reading and re-reading books. She would stand in the centre of the room, close her eyes and turn a few times before stopping and pointing her finger, selecting a book from the area she had pointed at. It was a little childish, yet it kept her occupied.

She even tried the attic once after finding a drawer filled with keys and padlocks, however none would open it. Neither would shaking the door knob several times, as she soon found out. Looking through the keyhole, she only saw darkness.

That was for the best.

She tried a few of the keys on the front door, yet that seemed just like the 'wall'; charmed to not let her out. The windows wouldn't budge either.

The only room she didn't go in, though she knew was unlocked, was Fenrir's room. She didn't know what she would find in there and even her notorious curiosity did not arise at the thought of that room.

By the second week of Fenrir's absence, Hermione had managed to clean the whole Manor. There was not a speck of dust or a cobweb in sight. It made the place seem a little more… Homely, to her.

By the third week, she had counted all the steps it took to reach the 'wall' from the back door, from her room, and even from one side of the Manor to the other. She did it three times each, sometimes purposefully losing count just so she could pass the time and do it again. Eating was the only thing that seemed constant to her now, part of a routine. Routines were what she lived by; at home, at Hogwarts, she had always followed one.

Yet by the fourth week when the food started to run low, did she then start to feel a trace of worry. Maybe this was what he had decided to do, leave her, all alone with nothing to do until she starved.

A slow death for the brightest witch.

Only when the food supply ran out and all she had was water, did she accept this.

* * *

><p><em>O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?<em>

At the end of Act Four of Swan Lake, Odette and Siegfried leap into the lake and drown. This breaks Von Rothbart's spell over Odette, causing him to lose his power over them, and he dies as a result. Hermione had seen it several times with her parents and could remember it well. Indeed, she could remember it so well, that she used to re-enact it whenever she was alone, most often when her parents were out. Before she joined Hogwarts, her parents had enrolled her in ballet classes in an effort to try and get her to make friends, but to Hermione, who needed friends when you had books? She had been too entranced by the music and movements, anyway.

In one class, they had studied the finale of Swan Lake and Hermione practiced it every day until she left for Hogwarts. It's strange, the things that stick with you.

Now, once again finding herself alone, she couldn't help but recall the play and the dance. The ballroom in the east side of the Manor had the largest space, perfect for dancing.

And that was where Hermione found herself, on a not so special rainy evening (the date she did not know), imagining the music was playing.

She had wandered down the halls, barefoot, at first just humming the music softly to herself, until she did then reach the ballroom. She had managed to find a few spare clothes in one of the rooms, yet the buttoned down shirt hung loosely off her body, and she still wore her jeans so she was a little cold as she opened the doors to the room and the temperature of the room flowed over her, but she ignored it.

Running her fingertips lightly along the wall, she looked up at the exquisite art work of ancient gods and goddess' on the ceiling, her humming growing louder.

The sound of her humming echoed off of the walls. The grand room was empty expect for 3 high windows on one wall and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Then, as the images in her mind reached the climax, and the music in her ears reached the crescendo, she closed her eyes and started to twirl, moving her arms just as done all those years ago.

Now, Odette was embracing Siegfried then moving away, absolutely heartbroken as she knew what was to come, then she was dancing so elegantly towards the edge of the lake, then she was leaping in-

Hermione smacked into something solid.

She almost fell over from the force and from her own fatigue. She was only saved by someone grabbing onto both of her wrists and pulling her forward. Her eyes snapped open and before her was Fenrir, Von Rothbart himself.

His face was expressionless as he looked down at her. Hermione's eyes were slightly wider than usual as she was held by his piercing gaze, until she managed to tear her eyes away from his guarded ones and she looked down at her hands.

He still held her wrists tightly against his chest, holding her to him. He didn't relax his grip even after she stared for a few moments. Swallowing lightly, Hermione tilted her head back up to look at Fenrir.

He was still staring down at her, emotionless.

And Hermione… Hermione was relieved to see him. _Relieved. _

A small sick feeling began to grow in Hermione as she realised that she _needed_ him, that she r_elied_ on him. He provided her with food and decided whether she lived or died. He was the only human contact she had.

Something in her snapped.

Using what little energy she had left, she wrenched her wrists from his grip and stepped away from him, raising her chin as she glared at him with as much hate as she could muster.

"Where have you been?" She hissed at him in a low voice. "I haven't eaten in days. I have been all on my own for weeks in this big fucking house. Where have you been?"

She kept her gaze locked with his as she awaited his reply.

Yet he remained silent and he didn't even flinch at her language, his chest rising and falling calmly.

This enraged Hermione even more.

Stepping towards him again, she slammed one set of bruised knuckles into his chest, ignoring the pain that shot up her arm.

"Why won't you say something?" She shouted, clenching her fists as she raised her chin, undeterred by his form towering over hers. "Why?"

Still he said nothing, her violent action not causing him to move in the slightest.

She snarled and slammed both fists into his chest this time… Then again… then again. She began to hiss at him again.

"All on… My own… For weeks… Why did you leave… Me… Why does everyone… Leave me… I don't like being… Alone…"

Wait… This wasn't meant to happen, what… She was meant to be hurting him, blaming _him. _Why was she telling him this? No one had left her … But they had, a small voice in her head answered. Where were Harry and Ron now? No. No, that wasn't fair. She was not as important as the task Dumbledore had left Harry… But you're still their friend, the voice answered again.

"Stop it…" Hermione whispered, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks as she continued to take her weeks of pent up anger out on Fenrir.

Fenrir's forehead creased slightly into a frown. Truthfully, he did not know what to say to her. Truthfully, he had not wanted to leave for so long. Truthfully, he was unnerved seeing her like this. She looked so fragile.

"Just… Stop it, please… Don't… Leave me alone…" Hermione's voice and punches grew weaker as a sob shuddered through her.

"Miss Granger…"

Hermione finally broke down.

Weak, she slumped against Fenrir, now curling her fists into his shirt, and her knees gave out. They never hit the floor though.

Reacting quickly, Fenrir swiftly stooped and slide an arm around the back of her knees, picking her up.

Shifting slightly so that he held her a little more comfortably, he closed his eyes briefly before looking back down at her. Her arms hung down and her head was tilted back, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling slowly and softly.

Shaking her lightly, he murmured, "Miss Granger... Miss Granger, you need to eat something."

When she didn't respond, he remained in that position for a few moments, studying her face. She had fainted. She looked so helpless, so small and pathetic. She couldn't survive on her own. How weak.

His gaze wandered down her arm, finally resting on the scars there. His frown deepened slightly.

_Mudblood_

Mudbloods were the very definition of weak. Yet Fenrir couldn't help but remember how the girl had fought and fought to get away from him. She was very much a fighter. Weak, but a fighter.

He didn't allow himself to feel anything but pity for the girl; no guilt or regret did he allow to run through him. Fenrir was right in everything that he did; he never made the wrong choice. This girl, however, was not a choice but a burden… A responsibility.

No.

He did not have to care about her. He did not have to protect her. He had to keep her under his guard until he was given his orders. That was all.

Swiftly turning, Fenrir exited the ballroom with Hermione still motionless in his arms. He ascended the stairs and made his way to her room, using one hand to open the door.

It appeared that she had moved some of the books from the library into her room, no doubt the ones that were her favourite or interested her. Stepping over a pile that had fallen over, he moved to the bed and bent down slightly, once again using one hand to pull back the bed covers.

Laying her down carefully, he then pulled the covers back up over her before taking a step away from the bed.

He should leave now, he had taken care of her and she no longer required his attention.

He didn't move.

Hermione's head shifted slightly and a curl fell across her face. Fenrir watched it fall.

Without thinking, he leant forwards and moved the curl aside off of her face, his fingertip lightly brushing her cheek, then down her jaw before he then pulled his hand back.

He remained, standing, watching, for a few more moments. Then, she turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him as he did so.

The hour was late and there was a bottle of whiskey that he would now direct all his attention to.

Maybe it would help clear his thoughts.

Moving away from her and the room, he descended the stairs and headed straight for the drawing room, a place where no guests had been entertained for a very long time.

He sat in his usual chair by the fireplace, only pausing to point his wand at the fire, mutter a few words and watch the flames rise, before picking the whiskey bottle up from the table nearby.

Raising the bottle to his lips, his frown was once again set in place as he pondered what she had said.

"_All on… My own… For weeks… Why did you leave… Me… Why does everyone… Leave me… I don't like being… Alone…"_

That was curious. Yes, he had indeed left her but she should have been happy that he wasn't around, she should have been angry at him for _returning_.

Fenrir sighed wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes.

Humans were so very strange.

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><p><strong>AN: Ooh er. **

**Thank you to Insert-dramatic-PenName, Kate101, Jamberine (thank you for telling me about the mistake x) ), arabellagrace, LadyWelbury, BattiBeff, mumz3l-Neskouiik-Bura, Deaddoll14, sweet-tang-honney and caradens for reviewing!**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They all belong to JK Rowling.**_

_**I apologise for the long wait, I've been rather busy over the past few weeks. Enjoy and have a lovely week.**_

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><p>"<em>O, thou wilt speak again of banishment."<em>

Awaking once again to find that she was somewhere different to where she could remember being was starting to become a most unwelcome habit.

Hermione had also awoken remembering her little outburst and vaguely recalling the events after that. It appeared Fenrir had… 'Tucked' her into bed.

Hermione almost laughed. Almost.

She took a bath, a small part of her wishing the soothing water would also wash away the words she had said. How could she have been so stupid. How could she have let those words pass her lips. If he thought her weak, he really must think it now.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione pulled herself out of the bath, quickly moving over to grab a towel as the air chilled her body. Wrapping the towel around herself, she shook her hair slightly, little droplets of water falling to the tiled floor with a quiet splash. She then leant her back against the cabinet and pushed it away from the door, having used it to make sure the other occupant of the house couldn't get in if they tried.

She doubted he would, though. He had kept his distance up until the previous night and his behaviour had been, rather irritatingly, what could only be called polite.

Moving into what she should probably call her bedroom, her gaze roamed across the area, checking to make sure it was still the same, untouched. She nodded with satisfaction after a few moments.

Then, something caught her eye. One of the wardrobe doors was slightly ajar, definitely not how she had left it.

Cautiously, she stepped towards it, using one hand to hold the towel to her chest tightly. She reached her spare hand out towards the door and slid her fingers around the handle.

She yanked the door open.

Rather surprisingly, there were a few items of clothing hanging within. Just clothes, nothing else, no one lurking at the back or jumping out at her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow slightly, bemused.

Oh, just shut up and wear the damn things, she scolded her mind, it having already started to over-analyse and question whereabouts the clothes had come from.

She pulled them on quickly, relieved to find they fitted her, though they were a little loose.

Folding her towel neatly and placing it on her bed, she then turned as if to make her way out of the door, only to realise that she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do that day, where she would, or even could, go and, probably most importantly, where Greyback was.

She released a quiet sigh and ran her hands through her hair, letting them rest at the back of her neck as she tried to formulate a plan for the day.

… _Read… Avoid Greyback… Wander aimlessly… Tidy a room… Avoid Greyback… Read… Plan an escape… Give up… Plan some more… Read… Wander… Avoid Greyback…_

She let out another sigh as she thought over her options.

Well, reading was a good place to start.

* * *

><p>"<em>By love, that first did prompt me to inquire."<em>

It was on that unusually bright afternoon that Fenrir entered the library, still clad in his long coat and boots from his previous walk, and came across Hermione sitting in the rather uncomfortably large chair she had been residing in for the last few hours.

She didn't acknowledge him but he knew she sensed him by the way her muscles tensed slightly, her nose twitching in an automatic reflex of want to wrinkle it.

Clearing his throat, he passed her, his movements stirring her curls just a little.

She watched him from the corner of her eye, just waiting for him to announce the death of someone she loved or even her own death date.

Yet there was nothing.

Fenrir tapped his nails against the window sill as he stood before it, almost cringing as he felt the awkward atmosphere close in around him.

In one swift motion, he turned to face the girl, pushing one side of his coat behind him so he could rest his hand on his hip, leaning his other hand on the window sill.

"You shouldn't waste your time on that book."

"Hermione looked up, her mouth parting in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?"

Oh no, he'd initiated a conversation with her.

"You shouldn't waste your time on that book," Fenrir repeated, already regretting his words as he raised his chin slightly.

Hermione nodded slowly, her forehead dipping slightly into a frown.

"Right… And why's that, may I ask?"

Fenrir shifted his weight to his other foot, lowering his head slightly again as he fixed her with his gaze.

"Firstly, the plot is ridiculously predictable and completely unrealistic. Secondly, the supposed hero is too weak to lift a sword let alone win a battle, and thirdly, I had the great misfortune to meet the author and he was a lying scoundrel."

He finished his speech with a nod.

The girl before him slowly closed the book, marking the page with her thumb, her eyebrows having raised a fraction higher with each sentence that passed his lips.

"Right… And yet you keep it here in your library."

"A substitute for wood," he said, offering her a one shouldered shrug as a corner of his mouth raised just a little.

Hermione glanced down at the front cover of the book, rubbing her forehead as she looked back up to meet his gaze with a slight sneer, desperately trying to think of a way to prove him wrong.

"This was published in 1813, how could you possibly have met the writer? That would make you…"

Fenrir simply raised an eyebrow, almost looking amused.

Hermione flushed lightly as she realised. Well, that explained rather a lot.

"Well… Anyway, I was actually quite enjoying this book so if you don't mind…"

She was about to re-open the book when he cut her off.

"Oh, by all means… I did not mean to distract you. Carry on."

He turned back towards the window without another word, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out at the grounds.

What… Hermione stared at the back of the notoriously brutal man before her. Why… Was this Fenrir Greyback trying to be _nice_? Lord, this was incredibly unnerving and strange.

She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and quickly looked down at the book. She actually agreed with him, having found that the book was actually rather dull.

Still, she wouldn't let him know that. Or couldn't.

Fenrir watched the girl's reflection in the window. He appeared to have puzzled her from the way her nose was wrinkled ever so slightly. Good, he liked to be unpredictable.

Still, it annoyed him that she was wasting her time on a book that would not satisfy her intellectual mind. Oh, Fenrir would freely admit that Miss Granger was indeed intelligent; half of the wizarding world knew it.

"However…" He began to say, causing Hermione to almost roll her eyes.

Well, too good to be true, she thought.

"However, I know of a book that would entertain you rather much more."

"Oh, do you now?" Hermione answered, moving her eyes across the page as she pretended to read on.

Fenrir turned back to her, trying not to purse his lips as he ignored her tone.

"If you would be so kind as to follow me, Miss Granger…"

With that, Fenrir turned and began to move swiftly down one of the aisles, clearly confident that she would join him.

Hermione peered over the top of the book and half blew, half sighed a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

Then, she snapped the book shut and rose, placing the book in her seat.

What could be the harm in simply glancing at her captors' choice of reading material?

Folding her arms, she set off after him.

She half expected him to jump out from behind one of the shelves but she thought that probably wasn't his style.

Hermione soon found Fenrir a few aisles down, scanning the shelves as he murmured a few words softly to himself.

She remained warily at the top of the aisle, watching him closely.

What on Earth was he searching for that could possibly interest her?

She was about to voice her question, albeit with slightly altered vocabulary, when his murmuring ceased and he pulled a book out from its place, using one finger to pull the top of the spine towards him.

He moved towards her, his piercing eyes gazing over the front cover.

He stopped in front of her and lifted his eyes to meet hers, raising an eyebrow slightly as he held the book out.

"Here we are, Miss Granger; A fitting replacement for that abomination of a novel."

His tone had a slight hint of amusement as one corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

Clearing her throat, Hermione took the book from him, dropping her uncomfortable gaze from his to read the title.

"I think I've heard of this. Is it any good?" She queried before she could stop herself.

Fenrir folded his arms, leaning his shoulder against a shelf as he crossed one foot over the other, resting the toe of his boot on the floor.

"Heard but not read, Miss Granger? I'm astounded." The other side of his mouth quirked slightly, "And you doubt my taste?"

Hermione flushed lightly, again, and raised her chin just a little.

"N-No, I simply meant that… I just… Wanted to know your opinion on it, that's all."

Oh God. _"Just wanted to know your opinion"_? Pull yourself together, Hermione, she scolded herself, he's not a teacher at Hogwarts. Something witty would have been wonderful.

Fenrir raised his eyebrows a fraction in amused surprise.

"From one book lover to another, I'm sure. Yes, it's very good. Not a love plot line in sight."

It was Hermione's turn to raise her eyebrows, a strange ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Do you have an issue with love, sir?"

Fenrir gave her a strained smile as he fixed his gaze upon the girl.

"No, Miss Granger, just how it is glorified."

Hermione's lips parted slightly in surprise. She had not been expecting that answer. She broke their shared gaze and glanced down at the cover of the book one more time before she held it to her chest.

"Oh, well… I'll, uhm, go to my room and read it there. It's starting to get a little cold. "

Fenrir stood straighter and nodded, his mind on other things.

"As you wish, Miss Granger."

She tapped her nails against the book once, feeling that she'd never get used to his strange politeness, and turned, starting to move back down the aisle.

Just as she reached the end though, she stopped and turned back to him, offering him a small and brief smile.

"Thank you for the book, sir. And the clothes."

He inclined his head towards her, still in the same position but one corner of his mouth having lifted slightly, no longer strained.

"You are welcome, Miss Granger."

The girl nodded in reply and left, her bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor of the corridors and stairs.

Fenrir rubbed his thumb against his jaw, realising a sigh through his nose.

No harm ever came from lending a book, he told himself.

But of course it had, and he knew it.

* * *

><p>"<em>Come hither, Nurse. What is yond gentleman?"<em>

Hermione soon became engrossed in the book Fenrir had given to her. It was far, far better than the one she had previously, and she might just tell him that.

After a few hours, however, her muscles became stiff from sitting for so long and she decided a walk would help stretch them.

Placing her book down on the bedside table, she stood, stretching her arms above her head. Her gaze roamed the room and eventually came to rest upon the window.

The sun was still out, though it had started to set, leaving the grounds bathed in soft light.

She decided a walk outside would be refreshing.

Exiting her room, she quietly moved down the corridor.

She stopped abruptly when she heard the front door bang open and a loud voice ring out downstairs.

"Hark! Ladies and gentleman of the theatre, please contain yourselves for I have returned!"

Hermione froze. What on Earth… She peered round the corner and down the stairs, spotting a tall, fair haired man closing the door with his boot before stepping into the room.

"What ho, is that the sound of London's favourite Mercutio? Or is it Titus?"

She saw Fenrir enter from the drawing room, a surprisingly wide smile across his lips.

"Oh, you flatter me, Greyback. But we both know Hamlet was my best work."

The man grinned at Fenrir and shook hands with him warmly before embracing him and patting his back.

"Fenrir, my old friend, how goes it?" He asked as they parted, his grin still lingering.

"Well enough. How was the north?"

"Rather difficult and boring, actually. The packs up there aren't too keen to get their hands dirty and join us but I have a feeling they'll come round. However, enough of my glorious adventures, what about yours? I hear that you've taken on a new house guest and a rather important one at that."

He folded his arms as he cocked an eyebrow at Fenrir.

"I didn't think you the type to 'look after' the enemy, Greyback."

Fenrir offered him a shrug, a wry smile upon his lips.

"Things change. Maybe I'm looking for a new occupation."

The stranger snorted and shook his head.

"If only it were that easy, my friend. Where is your guest?"

Fenrir turned, as if to gesture upstairs, and his gaze fell upon her. Hermione wasn't quick enough to duck behind the wall and met his eyes.

"Ah, Miss Granger, if you would kindly join us."

Knowing it was would be unwise to turn and run to her room, she nodded slightly and moved towards the stairs, cursing herself for eavesdropping and lingering.

She did not notice the other man's smile falter or his eyes widen just a little as she descended the stairs. Fenrir did.

He had recovered, though, by the time she had moved off the last step and tentatively stepped towards Fenrir and the stranger.

"Miss Granger, may I introduce Nathaniel Williams."

Nathaniel smiled, a surprisingly warm smile, and offered his hand towards Hermione.

"Miss Granger, it is a pleasure and an honour to meet the brightest witch of our age. I hope my friend has not been toouncouth."

She, once again tentatively, took his hand lightly and shook her head quickly.

"Oh no, he… He offered me a book." She blurted out before she could stop herself, and flushed lightly.

Nathaniel laughed and raised an eyebrow at Fenrir as he released Hermione's hand.

"Why, Greyback, I do believe your manners are improving, how wonderful."

Fenrir rolled his eyes and turned to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I believe Mr Williams is in need of a drink after his long journey. If you would be so kind as to make him and myself one, we shall be in the drawing room."

"A cup of tea would be marvellous, Miss Granger, thank you," Nathaniel said, once again smiling warmly at her.

Hermione nodded and gave Nathaniel a slight smile before quickly retreating to the kitchen, her mind already making notes on Nathaniel Williams.

Nathaniel's smile remained in place until Hermione had vanished through one of the doors and headed towards the kitchen. It quickly disappeared as he turned towards his oldest friend.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, Fenrir?"

Fenrir almost flinched at his angry tone and shifted his gaze to him, having watched the girl leave.

"If this is some twisted fantasy then—"

"It's not," Fenrir cut him off, knowing Hermione could return at any moment.

Nathaniel let out a long breath through his nose and folded his arms, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Then what are you doing?"

Fenrir ran his tongue over his teeth.

"If she had been left to the Malfoy's and the Lestrange's, she'd be too weak to give information. Potter should know by now that she is under my keeping and the Dark Lord believes this will cause him to wish to give himself up in her place."

His friend nodded, but Fenrir could tell he wasn't completely convinced.

"You know she's not her, don't you?"

Fenrir nodded slowly and rubbed his thumb against his jaw.

"Yes, Nathaniel, I do."

Nathaniel nodded once, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.

"Good. Now, going north was not all that has kept me from honouring you with my presence. Come, there is much to tell."

Grinning, Nathaniel clapped Fenrir on the back and steered him towards the drawing room, telling himself that now was not the time for both he and his friend to argue.

The full moon was only less than a week away.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and alerts! <strong>_


	6. Chapter 6

"_Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace!"_

Nathaniel Williams, as Hermione soon found out, was the greatest English theatre actor of all time. Just nobody knew it.

Upon his return to Greyback Manor a few days later, Nathaniel came across the girl cutting vegetables in the kitchen. Fenrir had requested, via a scrawled note, that she prepare a meal, large enough for himself and Nathaniel, to be served at 7 o'clock that evening. It seemed they both rather liked human food. After making himself a curious smelling cup of tea, Nathaniel surprised Hermione by sitting down at the old, wooden table she was cutting the vegetables on.

Then after he had made himself comfortable and, whilst grimacing, taken a sip of his tea, he managed to engage Hermione in an easy conversation by simply asking how she was.

Of course she didn't tell him the complete truth, but it was just nice to talk to somebody properly for the first time in what felt like a very long time.

"I'm fine," she answered, almost automatically, "Thank you, Mr Williams. How are you?"

"Oh, don't call me 'Mr Williams'," He waved his hand at her, "That makes me sound incredibly old and I don't want to sound it as well as feel it. Just call me Nathaniel, Miss Granger, and I am perfectly well, thank you."

She nodded, smiling slightly as she let her guard down a little. She got the impression that he could make anyone feel relaxed simply with his presence. She would have asked that he call her 'Hermione' but she assumed, as practically being Fenrir's… (maid? Slave? What the hell was she?) … in his care, that it might not be well received.

Hermione felt Nathaniel's gaze on her as he took another sip of his tea whilst she cut a carrot up. She had the feeling she was being scrutinised. Shifting uncomfortably, she cleared her throat.

"Are you an actor, Mr Wi—Nathaniel?"

"I was, Miss Granger."

"I heard you say the other day that you played Mercutio, Titus _and_ Hamlet... You must have been a very good actor," She smiled lightly at him.

Nathaniel offered her a crooked grin and inclined his head at her. "If you say it then it is so, Miss Granger." He set his cup down. "Yes, I was rather good. Will seemed to think so, too."

The girl frowned questioningly at him, "Will? Is that somebody you… Work with?"

"Yes, my dear. 'Worked' is a better word to use though as I am referring to Will Shakespeare."

Hermione paused in her cutting and gaped at the man before her.

"William Shakespeare? You've worked with _William Shakespeare_?"

"Ah, so you've heard of him," Nathaniel watched her, amused, and sat back in his chair brushing at imaginary dust on his trouser leg. "Yes, when Burbage was away or sick I, as his unofficial understudy, would take over. Will did offer me the roles full time but I didn't want to draw attention to myself. Somebody was bound to notice that I never aged. Still, the crowds adored my performances so my plan failed rather terribly. I had to fake my own death in the end."

He looked back up to see Hermione still gaping at him.

"I can't believe… Oh, I would have loved to have seen you perform."

He chuckled and smiled warmly at her, "Thank you, Miss Granger. I may show you a piece or two that really brought the house down some time soon."

Nathaniel winked at her, taking a sip of his tea as she found herself returning his smile.

"Was Greyback an actor too?" Hermione asked him after he had set his cup back down.

He snorted and shook his head, licking a drop of tea off of his lower lip.

"Saints preserve us if he ever does consider taking it up. No, I didn't meet Fenrir until 1718. A very good year that, actually. The papers were having a field day over the death of Edward Teach. I met him once, too, before he became Blackbeard. Very funny man."

He hummed to himself thoughtfully, not noticing Hermione gape at him again, before his thoughts were broken by Hermione's next question.

"How did you meet Greyback, then?" She had resumed her cutting, glancing up at him frequently.

"Oh, at a ball, naturally. I saved him from a throng of simpering girls hoping to marry him and I suppose things like that bond men for life."

"Was he—"

"A werewolf then? No, no, he…" Nathaniel ran his finger around the edge of the almost empty cup, choosing his words carefully, "I met him a month or so before he was attacked. A werewolf I had encountered years before found out I was in town and sought me out."

Nathaniel grew more hesitant as he went on and his voice was a little quieter. He watched his own finger go round and round the cup.

"When he finally found me, Fenrir and I were at a friend's house, they had thrown a party, and he was there. Fenrir being all moral and noble and, being in the era that we were in, he naturally tried to defend me. He didn't know what he was up against. He was bitten and that was it. I took him away for the safety of everyone in the area and himself."

Hermione had stopped cutting as she listened. He was leaving parts out, she could tell; it seemed difficult for him to recall, like it was a memory he wished he could forget.

The werewolf looked back up at her and raised the cup to his lips, hesitated, then placed it back down.

"Miss Granger— "

"Nathaniel."

Hermione's head shot up, simultaneously cutting her finger on the knife, whilst Nathaniel's turned slowly, to the door way.

Fenrir Greyback stood there, his features set in their usual emotionless state, though dark circles lay underneath his eyes .

Hermione resented him for ruining what had been turning out to be an almost nice afternoon.

Nathaniel raised his brows as he crossed his legs and brought his cup to his lips.

"Yes, dear?"

"You sai— "

Fenrir suddenly paused.

After a few moments his eyes flicked over to Hermione, who was quietly sucking the blood from the cut.

"Miss Granger, did you cut yourself?"

Hermione looked up as he addressed her and quickly removed her finger from her lips.

"Oh, uhm, yes, you startled me."

She tried not to sound accusing.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger, he frightens me most of the time." Nathaniel's tone was light, but he set his cup down slowly, looking up at his friend, unblinking.

Fenrir's eyes remained on Hermione.

She dropped her gaze and tried not to shift uncomfortably. He was probably going to scream at her for getting blood all over their food— _Oh._

She was in a room with two werewolves and her finger was bleeding.

She glanced at Nathaniel. He was still looking at Greyback. Odd, why wasn't he looking at her, too?

"Miss Granger, kindly make sure that it is bandaged securely and quickly. I don't want to wait all night for my dinner."

Greyback's voice brought her attention back to him.

"And you are not helping, Nathaniel, by distracting her. Come."

With a glance at his friend and not another word, he turned and disappeared.

Hermione realised her features were arranged into a scowl and she quickly looked over at Nathaniel to see if he had noticed.

He had not; he was still staring at the doorway in which his friend had just been. His whole body seemed tense.

She was about to open her mouth to see if she could take his cup when suddenly he looked up at her with a warm smile, his body relaxed once more.

"Well, this has been delightful, Miss Granger, but I'm afraid my charming friend is right, I have been distracting you."

Finishing the last remains of his tea, he rose.

"Oh no, it's fine, Mr W— Nathaniel, really, it's been wonderful." She flushed lightly at how positively lame it sounded that a conversation had been the highlight of her _month_ which, she realised, it had.

Nathaniel smiled at her, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

Lifting her nearest hand to him to his lips, he pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand, smiling warmly.

"Till tonight, Miss Granger."

She smiled lightly at the gesture, feeling slightly comforted and remained smiling as she watched him leave.

Nathaniel closed the door of the study quietly behind him.

He turned to find Fenrir pouring himself a glass of whiskey and placing the bottle back down on the small table more violently than was necessary.

"Fenrir—"

"Not now, Nathaniel." Fenrir growled at him, before knocking back the drink and swallowing without a grimace.

There was a long pause and Fenrir refilled his glass, before Nathaniel moved and sat in the empty chair before the fire.

This was not a day to push his friend.

* * *

><p>"<em>It is an honour that I dream not of."<em>

By the time 7 o'clock arrived, Hermione had finished preparing the food and had begun to lay it out on the table in the dining room. As she was setting the last plate down, which was piled high with delicious smelling bread, Greyback and Nathaniel entered the room.

Nathaniel winked at her when he caught her eye. Greyback didn't so much as glance at her.

As they took their seats, at either end of the table, Hermione turned and began to head towards the door, proud of herself for resisting the bizarre urge to curtsey.

"Aren't you joining us, Miss Granger?"

Nathaniel's question caught her off guard, and her hand froze on the door knob. She heard Greyback's movements cease, and could practically _feel_ him narrowing his eyes at his friend.

He was probably just as surprised as she was.

Turning to face Nathaniel, after a few far too long silent moments, Hermione laced her fingers together and rubbed one thumb against the opposite palm.

"Ehm… No, I'm going to have my own dinner up in my room. As usual."

She almost kicked herself for adding the last part whilst glancing at Greyback.

Nathaniel's mouth twitched.

"Well, that hardly seems fair, Miss Granger. After all, you prepared this wonderful looking feast so why not enjoy it? Right, Fenrir?"

He looked over at his friend, smiling almost innocently as he nodded.

Greyback ground his teeth together lightly before gesturing to an empty chair between himself and Nathaniel, taking Hermione by complete surprise.

"Have a seat, Miss Granger."

"Allow me, my dear."

Nathaniel rose from his chair and strode around the table until he reached the vacant chair. Pulling it out for her, he waited until she was seated before he gently pushed it in, closer to the table.

Hermione couldn't help but notice that he also shifted her chair slightly more towards his side of the table.

She didn't have more time to reflect on it though as Nathaniel began to launch into a tale of how he almost accidentally killed another man on stage.

The awkward atmosphere of the room began to slowly fade away as Nathaniel drove the conversation, Hermione the only one responding and laughing lightly.

She almost forgot about Greyback, sitting quietly at the other end of the table.

And she didn't notice him looking at her throughout the entire meal.

* * *

><p><em>"O, teach me how I should forget to think!"<em>

Damn it, why couldn't she just have left so he could focus again?

He had hoped the whiskey would have dulled his senses but, alas, no such luck.

Damn her and her cut.

Damn her clumsiness.

Damn her laugh.

Damn her smile.

Damn him from stopping them both.

* * *

><p><em>"One pain is lessened by another's anguish."<em>

"Miss Granger, that was marvellous. I don't think I've had a better meal in all my years of living," Nathaniel smiled warmly at her as he sat back in his chair, whiskey glass in one hand.

Hermione smiled widely him, and then looked over at Greyback for the first time since she'd sat down.

Nathaniel's praise and presence had given her a boost of confidence, and she looked almost expectantly at Greyback.

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows at him, also expectantly.

Fenrir's gaze flicked between them both before he rested his gaze on the girl and nodded at her.

"Yes, very good, Miss Granger. Now, if you could clear the plates awa—"

Hermione's smile had begun to fade before Nathaniel cut in.

"Nonsense, what do you think magic's for? And besides," he moved his gaze back to Hermione, "I happen to be a keen astrologer, Miss Granger, and I'm certain the stars will look particularly excellent tonight. Would you like to join me for a walk in the garden?"

He stood and extended his hand towards her, his mouth turning up.

Hermione's hand was about to slip into his with an eager acception when Greyback interjected.

"I don't think that's—"

"You'll stay inside, won't you, Fenrir? I'll just bore you with my starry talk and you'll spoil it for Miss Granger if she hears you complaining." Nathaniel looked up at him, his gaze hardening slightly.

Fenrir understood his true meaning.

Rising from his chair, he held his friend's gaze emotionlessly, betraying nothing.

"No, I'll be fine, I assure you."

After a few moments of neither looking away from the other, Nathaniel finally smiled again and looked down at Hermione, who had started to frown lightly.

"This way, Miss Granger."

Offering her his arm as she rose, Nathaniel led Hermione from the room, beginning to explain some of the stars he expected them to see.

Fenrir's shoulders slumped slightly, and he let out a long breath through his nose, before following after them.

* * *

><p><em>"Most miserable hour that e'er time saw"<em>

"And that over there is Orion's Belt, which contains the three bright stars Alnitak, Alnilam and Mintaka…"

Hermione nodded and listened attentively whilst Nathaniel explained all the stars in the black sky up above them.

Fenrir stayed a few steps behind them, within ear shot, but not particularly listening. He'd heard it all before.

Instead he concentrated on keeping control.

Forcing himself to eat as much as he could had done nothing to appease his growing appetite.

The girl's voice suddenly cut through his thoughts.

"Oh, yes, I know what that one is…"

The two of them were further away but their voices seemed to have grown louder, more clearer.

Fenrir shook his head, trying to focus.

He should have stayed behind.

Gripping the nearest tree, he bowed his head slightly and took several deep breaths.

No. He'd be fine. He was stronger than this.

After a few moments, he let out a slow breath and straightened up, looking ahead to see if they'd noticed his… Rest.

Then a light breeze blew her scent in his direction.

And he heard her laugh.

"Of course this works on all the ladies, Miss Granger. Why else would I know all of this off by heart?" Nathaniel mock-scolded Hermione before he grinned as she laughed.

"I thought it was your hobby!"

"My _hobby? _My goodness, Miss Granger, what a dull perspective you have of m-"

Nathaniel stopped suddenly.

Hermione looked up at him and her smile faded slightly, the look on his face making her start to feel _very_ uneasy.

"What? What is it?"

"No. Oh, you fool. Why didn't you take the herbs," he breathed, so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

"Wha—"

Then she heard it.

A deep, grating, snarling sound, not too far off.

And then a ripping sound, like tearing of clothes, much closer, followed by a quiet, anguished growl.

Nathaniel turned slowly, and gently but firmly moved Hermione behind him.

"Don't move an inch, Miss Granger," he murmured.

She nodded slightly and glanced up at him before back through the trees.

She could see nothing through the darkness but she knew he could, and whatever he saw made him incredibly uneasy.

And that terrified her.

Another snarling sound, starting off almost as a groan, came from what seemed to be a few trees away and there were several quieter, crunching and popping sounds.

Where the hell was Greyba—

Oh, _shit._

Hermione slowly raised her eyes to the sky and there, a dark cloud passing over it, was the moon, full, illuminating the ground below it.

A great, echoing howl echoed across the wood.

Her gaze slid down again and she froze as, looking around Nathaniel, half illuminated by the moon light, was a large, black werewolf.

Its back was turned to them as it seemed to pant lightly, a low, almost wailing sound also coming from it.

How could she be so stupid and forget it was the full moon? It wasn't like it could slip her mind, she'd been in a manor with two werew—

Two.

She looked up at Nathaniel and her eyes widened.

He would turn any minute now.

As he was still staring intently at the beast before them, she slowly and quietly took a step backwards, then another, and then another.

Until her foot landed on a twig, and it snapped.

Both Nathaniel and the beast stiffened at the same time.

Nathaniel swung round to face her, his eyes wide.

He was about to open his mouth when a low growl came from the beast.

Lifting its head, it slowly turned round to face them.

It snarled and pulled its muzzle back to bare its teeth, gnashing them at the pair.

It crouched slightly.

"Miss Granger, run. Now," Nathaniel called to her, his voice steady as he mirrored the beast's actions.

She didn't move. She couldn't. The beast's eyes were fixed on her and it snarled again as Nathaniel spoke.

"Run, Hermione!" Nathaniel shouted, as the beast suddenly lunged at her.

His command broke her trance and she turned, and ran.

She only had time to see Nathaniel undergo the quickest transformation she had ever thought possible and tackle the other beast, before she looked ahead, searching for the manor through the trees.

Her heart pounded as she heard the growls, snarls and whimpers of the two beasts grow more distant.

A sharp thorn cut a line across her cheek bone as she ran past it but she ignored it, not stopping for a moment.

How the hell could Nathaniel transform at will? It wasn't meant to be possible!

Suddenly her feet were pulled out from under her and she fell to the ground with a pained cry.

She tried to push herself back up when a heavy paw pressed against her back, pushing her down.

Hermione let out another cry as she felt hot breath at the back of her neck and claws piercing through her shirt to her skin.

The black furred beast turned her over with its paw and snarled down at her, resting the paw back on her chest.

She bit her lower lip hard to stop another cry as she felt the claws dig into her skin again, closing her eyes tightly.

Then it was off of her, having been tackled by the dark brown beast.

She lifted herself up, wincing, and felt a large, furry head under her arm which helped to pull her up.

Startled, she saw it was the browner beast; Nathaniel.

When she was upright, it pushed her towards the manor with its head, making a small whimpering sound.

As she turned away to start running again, she heard a howl of pain and looked back in horror to see the black beast had sunk its teeth into the browner ones leg.

Her eyes wide, she ran.

She could feel parts of her shirt wet with what she knew was blood and her body ached.

She almost cried when she saw how close the manor was and hearing another howl of pain made her run faster.

Reaching the door, she had to rattle the door knob a few times before it would open, before shutting it behind her.

Not pausing to see if there was anything out there, chasing her, she ran to the stairs and up them to her room.

Fumbling with the door knob as she shut it behind her, she cursed as she remembered it had no lock, wildly starting to look around the room.

Her gaze moving over the cabinet, she knew it was too small, and her eyes fell on the wardrobe.

Her muscles screamed at her as, groaning and gasping, she managed to push it towards the door, only stopping when it covered it entirely, barricading her in.

She hoped.

Panting as quietly as she could, she moved backwards onto the bed, pressing back against the head board and hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes fixed on the wardrobe.

She didn't realise she had cried until she brushed the hair out of her eyes and felt her wet cheeks.

There was complete silence.

She waited.

There was nothing.

No sound outside.

Nothing in the manor.

She could only hear her heart beating wildly.

Then she heard a heavy paw thud on the wooden floor, down the hall at the top of the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I cannot apologise enough for how long this has taken! Life and exams seem to have gotten in the way and I have been so incredibly busy. I hope everyone has had a good year (erk, it's been that long), and enjoys this chapter.**

**I will now try as hard as I can to update every month but please be patient as you all have been so far fantastically.**

**Thank you for all the reviews and follows, it's so lovely, and enjoy.**


	7. Chapter 7

"_For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone"_

Her breath caught as she heard it.

_Oh no… Oh please…_

Nails scraped lightly on the wooden floor as another paw was heard, causing a board to creak under the weight of it.

Hermione didn't breathe, terrified that any sound would alert the beast to her whereabouts.

This was pointless.

It knew anyway.

She heard another creak, then silence.

A great bang on the door caused the wardrobe to rock and tilt forward slightly.

"Hermione, let me in, please, it's me."

Nathaniel's breathless voice was heard from the other side of the door.

She remained frozen in her position.

"Hermione? Hermione! I would very much appreciate it if you let me in. I know you're in there."

He tried to keep his tone light but it was betrayed by the hoarseness of his voice.

Hermione quickly pulled herself together and pushed herself off the bed, ignoring her aching body.

She placed her hands on the wardrobe before pausing.

Was that really Nathaniel out there? Could this be a trick of Greyback's? Was Nathaniel actually laying out there in the darkness of the woods, dead or dying?

"I won't hurt you, I promise, Hermione. Please."

Licking her dried lips, she cleared her throat before saying, "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

He was about to start marvelling at her lack of urgency before realising where her thoughts must be going.

"In the kitchen earlier I promised to show you pieces I had performed which brought the house down and Hermione, by God I swear if I survive tonight, that oath will be fulfilled."

His statement and mention of survival caused her to shove all her weight against the wardrobe without another thought.

She let out a pained groan as she closed her eyes tightly, the wardrobe beginning to move away from the door.

She heard Nathaniel murmuring quick words of encouragement, his fingers drumming against the door.

After several, painful moments, the wardrobe was back in its place.

She leant against the door, exhausted, before opening it.

Not a second later, Nathaniel, wearing only his coat that she had hung up for him downstairs earlier, slipped into the room and slammed the door shut.

Not a second after that, he pinned her against the door, holding her upper arms tightly as his eyes roamed her face and body frantically.

His hair was wild, some locks sticking to his neck with sweat and blood from a cut on the side of his neck. There was another cut on his face, starting from one side of his head and finishing in the middle of his cheek on the opposite side. His lip was also split.

Beginning to feel uneasy, Hermione tried to pull away.

"What are you do— "

"Are you hurt?"

"What? No, yes, you're hurting me right no—"

"Yes? Where?"

"Well, I cut my cheek, I think, and his nails cut my ches—"

Nathaniel's sharp curse cut through her sentence, startling her, and his desperate eyes held hers.

"Hermione… Have you been bitten?"

She frowned and her heart stopped as she mentally checked every part of her body, before shaking her head and swallowing, relief flowing through her.

She hadn't even considered the fact she could have been bitten.

Nathaniel also looked greatly relieved, closing his eyes for a few moments as his shoulders relaxed.

Finally, he let go of her arms and stood up straight.

He looked down at her and surveyed her again, this time more calmly.

She noticed his fists clench slightly however when he saw the small circles of blood that had seeped through her shirt.

"You need to get out of here."

"What? How? There's no way—"

"Hermione, it's absolutely out of the question that you stay here any longer. He cannot control himself."

She suddenly had a thousand questions that she needed answering but she decided on the most pressing one.

"Where is he?"

She knew who he was referring to and couldn't bring herself to say his name.

Nathaniel let out a weary sigh and he suddenly looked much, much older.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and winced as it pulled at the cut on his face. She also noticed how he was keeping his weight on his left leg.

"I managed to throw him against a rock hard enough to knock him out, but by now…"

He shrugged slightly and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"If I can get you out of the front door then I can apparate us somewhere else and think what to do then."

"But there's a charm that prevents me from—"

"Yes, I know, but I also know the counter charm."

Something like hope almost began to surface within Hermione.

Licking her cracked lips, her heart beat quickened within her chest.

"All right, what do we do?"

Nathaniel wiped his forehead with his forearm and lowered his voice.

"Be as quiet as you can. It's not too far to run but we still have to be very careful."

She nodded and swallowed her terror.

Freedom was close, _s_oclose.

Nathaniel placed his hand on the door knob, paused, and slowly turned it.

Pausing again, he then quietly opened the door, fraction by fraction.

The hallway outside was dark, and empty.

His hand reached back and found Hermione's own.

Giving it a gently squeeze, a silent confirmation, he then pulled her out of the room and began to stride towards the stairs, Hermione only inches behind him.

A growl came from within the shadows.

They both froze.

The beast stepped out slowly, it's muzzle trembling with unsuppressed rage.

It had waited

It gave a furious bark-growl at seeing their hands joined.

"Hermione… Go back inside your room."

Nathaniel's lips seemed to barely move.

Hermione's entire body couldn't move.

The beast took another step forward, every single muscle tense.

Nathaniel slowly slid his hand out of Hermione's and placed it on her stomach, pushing her back.

The beast gave another growl at the contact, pausing as it bared it's teeth.

Hermione gently rested a hand on Nathaniel's arm, reassuring, thanking, terrified.

And then it all happened at once.

The beast crouched and leapt, almost in the same moment, and Nathaniel pushed Hermione backwards, turning his head to shout, "Go, Hermione! Barricade yourself in! Go!"

Running. Always running.

She slammed the door behind her, catching only a second of Nathaniel throwing his coat off.

It took less time to push the wardrobe in front of the door, the adrenaline surging through her making up for the energy she had lacked earlier.

She backed away from the door slowly.

Whimpers mixed with growls were heard from beyond the door.

She could practically _feel_ the scraping of teeth and nails on the floor, and the walls, and… skin. Bone.

There was one last, painful whimper and then silence.

Hermione continued moving backwards until she felt the bed at the backs of her legs.

She sat, hands trembling in her lap, eyes fixed on the door.

Something banged against the door.

She jumped and placed a hand over her mouth.

The wardrobe rocked and creaked.

There was a bang again, followed by a scrabbling sound.

Then another, until it became incessant.

The wardrobe heaved and groaned, tilting forward further.

Hermione trembled, biting hard on her lower lip.

With one last bang, the wardrobe fell.

Hermione scrambled backwards with a horrified cry, the wardrobe narrowly missing her as it crashed down onto the bed.

Dust filled the air and choked her, causing her eyes to water.

She coughed and struggled to breathe for a few moments, the pain finding her minutes after that.

She held back a whimper as she saw the piece of wood being pressed down onto her ankle by the side of the wardrobe.

Pressing her lips together to muffle her pained cry, she carefully pulled herself out from underneath it.

Yet there was nothing behind her and she fell to the floor, landing hard on her side, causing her to cry out.

She lay there for a few moments, coughing, the dust slowly settling onto her aching form.

Groaning, she heaved herself up, her arms shaking with trying to support her own weight.

Her head shot up as she heard a soft, almost triumphant growl.

The beast was watching her from the wreckage of the door, it's head tilted to one side.

Slowly, almost as if it was mocking her, it crouched down, just poised to pounce.

Summoning what energy she had left, Hermione lunged to the side, under the bed.

The beast landed right where she would have been but she didn't stop, not for a moment, not until she was out on the other side.

Using the window sill, she pulled herself up, still not stopping even though she felt pain in almost every inch of her body.

The beast growled and pounced again, crashing into the wall next to her with it's shoulder.

It narrowly missed her shoulder as it snapped it's teeth for she had already moved again and reached the bathroom door.

Slamming the door behind her, her fingers fumbled with the lock as she gasped at the pain coursing through her body.

Coughing, her throat hoarse, she collapsed to the floor, moving as far away from the door as she could, her back pressing against the bath tub.

She thought it would start banging on the door again.

She was wrong.

One, slow, scraping sound of a claw on wood was heard, taunting her.

Hermione drew her knees to her chest, covering her ears with her hands as her breaths came out in almost sobs.

_Stop it, stop it, stop it…_

…"Stop it, stop it," She began to whisper as tears rolled down her cheeks, the pleas no longer being only thought.

The noise just kept going, grating against her eardrums incessantly.

"Stop!" She tried to shout as loud as she could, her dry throat restricting her.

Suddenly, there was silence.

Slowly, she moved her hands away from her ears, her rapid heartbeat thudding in her ears.

A furious growl cut through the silence.

She screamed as the door seemed to almost be ripped off its hinges.

The beast stalked towards her, over the fallen door.

Her eyes roamed wildly around the room, searching for an escape, and found none.

Yet she pushed herself up as far as she could, gripping onto the side of the bath tub as she shook.

The beast snarled and swiped it's paw at her to knock her back down, it's claws cutting into her skin from her spine to her hip.

Hermione cried out and fell back down onto her side, her body shaking with exhaustion and silent sobs.

She lifted her eyes as it towered over her, the same triumphant look from earlier shining in it's cold, black eyes.

It pulled it's lips back over it's teeth in what could have been called a smile and began to lower it's head to her neck.

"No, Fenrir!"

The beast's head whipped round to find the source of the command.

Nathaniel stood in the doorway, supporting himself against the frame of it.

Dried blood was spread in various places on his coat.

He shook his head wearily at the great beast.

"No, not again."

The beast stiffened.

It looked back down at Hermione, something passing over it's features, before it snarled and bolted from the room, barely giving time for Nathaniel to step aside.

Nathaniel let out a breath as he leant against the door frame, lowering his head.

Hermione swallowed, wincing as she did so.

One side of her felt wet.

She looked down and saw a little pool of blood forming beneath her.

Nathaniel suddenly remembered the situation at hand as he heard her strained sound of alarm.

"Oh, Hermione…"

Crossing the room quickly, he knelt beside her and gently lifted her upright, resting her head against his shoulder as she gripped at the coat around him.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry… _So _sorry…" He murmured softly to her as he carefully put pressure on the wound on her side.

She tried to speak but no words came out. Instead, she let out a sob and tried to focus her vision which was becoming increasingly blurred.

"It'll be all right, I promise you…" She heard Nathaniel say as he lifted her gently.

After that all she could hear was a howling from somewhere in the distance.

* * *

><p>"<em>This torture should be roared in dismal hell"<em>

It snarled and snapped it's teeth, ripping strips and chunks of bark off the closest trees.

The smell of wet earth and pine filled it's senses, but not enough to rid it of her smell.

It shook it's head furiously before tilting it's head up and releasing a howl of frustration.

The other one would be touching her now, it knew.

The beast huffed and began to pace in the moonlight.

It had been so close, so close it _saw_ the pulse throbbing in her neck, _felt_ her heart beat.

It ceased it's pacing as it remembered the look in her eyes. Pure terror.

Sitting down heavily, the beast rested it's head on it's paws, huffing again at the memory.

Two memories.

Terror was something it loved to cause, to see right before the _bite_, but not this time.

This time it felt… something else.

The beast shook it's head and snarled slightly at the thought, pushing itself back up and beginning to softly pad towards the other side of the wood.

It smelt deer.

It wasn't enough but it would do to sate it's appetite, for now.

Only a few hours later, the morning sun began to rise and strips of light came through between the trees.

The beast snarled and ducked it's head as the light shone in it's eyes.

Howling and whining, it's back arched as it's bones began to crack and realign themselves.

Hair began to recede in and teeth and nails shrunk.

It was over soon.

And Fenrir the man was left, left to clean up after the monster.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you so much to forgottenchangeling, Hanable-13, Lover of Fantasy, Axita, Severussnape1984, 0oBellina0o, Ling Ling 2468, Sweet163, cleocleo22 and HudHud9 for reviewing!

I hope everyone's well and has a good week.


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